Mr. Nice Guy by Belinda Williams

Chapter Twelve

When the game was over,Tom saw that Chelsea hadn’t been waiting alone. He was glad she’d been able to chat to Mia, because Tom still felt weird about Chelsea being here. Despite their pretend arrangement, it felt a little too personal having her come along.

You mean, it’s something Gemma would have done?

Tom shook the thought off and walked over to Reece who played goalkeeper.

Reece slapped him on the back. ‘Great win.’

Tom smiled. ‘Sure was. Thanks to your saves.’

Reece nodded in the direction of the women. ‘Hey, is that your housemate?’

Tom acted casual, though he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to. ‘Yep. That’s her.’

‘Cute.’

‘I guess so.’

Reece scoffed. ‘You guess so? The way you talk about her, she’s the perfect woman.’

‘Do I?’ Still casual. Still relaxed, even though his heart rate was refusing to settle down after the match. ‘More like the perfect housemate.’

‘Whatever you want to tell yourself to make it easier. I haven’t met her before and I already know she’s smart, funny, works in childcare, is messy but considerate because she makes sure her mess stays in her room, and dates jerks.’

Tom shrugged. ‘You get to know a lot about someone when you live with them.’

Reece shot him a sceptical look. ‘Well, if you ever decide to date again, I suggest you start with her.’

‘How do you know I’m not dating?’ Tom was surprised that Reece had noticed.

‘I’ve never seen you with a woman who is either not a co-worker or friend since you moved here.’

‘So? I could still be dating and you just don’t know about it.’

‘Mate, the way you actively avoid engaging with any of Mia’s friends tells me you’re not dating. You know at least five of them would go out with you if you were interested, right?’

Tom swallowed. He’d noticed—sort of. They were all nice girls, but not Tom’s type.

The thing is, Tom didn’t really have a type. Gemma had been his type, but that was well and truly over now.

‘Anyway, why is Chelsea here tonight?’ Reece asked with interest.

Crap. Tom definitely wasn’t telling Reece about the pretend nice guy arrangement—not that he’d been planning on it in the first place.

‘Chelsea needs to pick up a heavy package in town and I’m giving her a hand with it. We said we’d met here.’

It was a lie, of course. Kind of. The truth was, Tom did have a package for Chelsea, but she didn’t know about it yet, and she certainly wouldn’t need help lifting it.

‘Shame. Mia and I are meeting some of her friends for dinner around the corner. We were going to invite you. Chelsea’s welcome to come, too.’

‘We’ll have to give it a miss tonight. Another time.’

‘Mia’s girlfriends will be disappointed,’ Reece told him with a grin.

Tom shook his head at his co-worker and friend, then strode off to meet Chelsea.

* * *

‘This is betterthan fish and chips.’

Tom hid a smile and debated telling Chelsea that she had gravy on her nose, but then she swiped a napkin across her mouth and it was gone.

‘It’s hardly fine cuisine, but if you’re happy, I’m happy,’ Tom told her.

They’d driven to Newcastle’s Harbour Foreshore area, parked the car, and walked to pick up dinner from Harry’s Café de Wheels. Housed in an old tram carriage, Harry’s sold hot pies, hot dogs and other fast food prepared on site, but the pies were the best. Topped with mashed potato, peas and gravy, it was a meal within itself.

Now they were perched on the concrete wall overlooking the harbour. With its serene expanse of vivid blue water, it would be easy to forget that it was a working harbour and one of the busiest coal ports in the Southern Hemisphere, and the locals regularly did. The foreshore had been developed in recent years and was now home to waterside cafés, restaurants, and pubs, as well as a popular spot to walk or ride your bike.

Chelsea finished her mouthful before speaking. ‘You don’t have to impress me, you know.’

‘Don’t I?’

‘No. You’re a nice guy. Something I’m learning is that nice guys don’t feel the need to carry on about how good they are or show off. It has its appeal.’

Tom was glad he was eating, because he didn’t know how to react to the word “appeal”. She wasn’t saying that he necessarily had appeal, but that nice guys had appeal in general, which was something.

He finished chewing and nodded at her. ‘I didn’t realise that guys who are show-offs were so appealing, but then, I’m not a girl.’

‘I didn’t always see it as showing off,’ Chelsea admitted. ‘More like confidence.’

Tom snorted, but kept his mouth shut as he was eating.

Chelsea pouted. ‘Confidence is attractive, don’t you think?’

Tom swallowed, and it wasn’t due to the food in his mouth. Confidence was most certainly attractive, especially in Chelsea’s case when she didn’t realise the way her natural confidence shone through. The guys she dated? Yeah, not so much.

‘Confidence doesn’t have to be cocky,’ he said instead.

‘I’m seeing that now. You’re confident.’

‘Not like that,’ he pointed out quickly.

Her smile broadened. ‘No, not like that. Your confidence is natural. I can see now that, for a lot of guys, it’s manufactured.’

He couldn’t help himself and grinned. ‘My evil plan is working then.’

‘You’re not evil.’

It was the way she said it. Softly, like she meant it. He found himself grasping for a joke to distract himself from how her blue eyes shimmered at him in the fading light.

He winked at her. ‘You mean I’m nice.’

She shoved him. ‘Yes, you’re nice. But you’re more than that, too.’

Tom picked up his can of Coke and took a swig. Progress? Was that what this was? Because right now he was finding it hard to think straight with her focus solely on him and her thigh centimetres from his.

He set his drink back down and turned his gaze towards the harbour resting in the twilight. ‘I’m glad you’re starting to see that nice guys have substance.’

‘Maybe substance is what I’ve been scared of all along.’

Without wanting to, his eyes met hers again. ‘What do you mean?’

Chelsea sighed. ‘I lied. I did date a nice guy. Once.’

Tom picked up a note of regret in her tone. ‘When was this?’

‘In high school. We were together for over a year. His name was Jay. He was really sweet. Probably still is. I heard he’s married now with a couple of daughters.’

It wasn’t just regret, Tom realised. There was a hint of pain, like she’d once wanted what he had now.

‘I think I recall it. Your brother liked him. Why did you break up?’

Chelsea sighed and shifted to focus on the famous Nobbys Head Lighthouse that marked the entrance to the harbour. ‘I dumped him. For a popular boy.’

‘Right.’

‘Right,’ she repeated. ‘In other words, I was a total bitch.’

‘Chels, you were in high school. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

‘No, I was. I’m happy to admit it. Jay was talking about what we were going to do after high school. Not “he” but “we”. That’s how serious it was. And I gave it all up because a popular boy wanted to go out with me. Talk about shallow.’ Chelsea lifted a shoulder in a half shrug and played with a chip. ‘In my defence, I’d always thought the popular guys weren’t interested in me, so it was a first for me.’

Tom knew that deep down Chelsea wasn’t truly shallow, but he had seen her behave like it from time to time. Particularly when the latest hot guy showed interest in her.

Tom cleared his throat. ‘What would make you think that the popular guys weren’t interested in you?’

Chelsea tossed the chip into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t one of the sought-after girls when I was younger. At school, I mean. When this boy showed interest in me, I was shocked.’

‘Chels—’

‘No, don’t say something nice. It’s true. I wasn’t unpopular, but I wasn’t someone guys noticed. Until they did.’

Until they did.

Tom had a feeling that the boys had noticed Chelsea all along, except the popular girls had been easier to attain. Chelsea was a whirlwind of life and colour, laughter and wit, caring and kind, and so genuine it hurt. All the popular boys’ usual tricks wouldn’t have worked on Chelsea.

Until they did.

It made more sense to Tom now. The popular boys tried harder than they ever had before to gain Chelsea’s approval, and Chelsea had been flattered by their interest. And so the cycle went on and on until here she was in her late twenties, still falling for the same men.

‘So the popular guys became a habit of yours,’ Tom concluded.

‘A bad habit,’ muttered Chelsea, shovelling a spoonful piled high with potato and peas into her mouth. After she swallowed, she added, ‘You know, I think I’ve stayed away from the nice guys since then because I felt like I didn’t deserve them after how things ended with Jay. I don’t ever want to hurt another nice guy again.’

Tom regarded her, amused. ‘We’re tougher than we look, and it’s time to break the habit. The next guy you go out with needs to be a nice guy.’

‘Isn’t that what this is about?’ she said, waving the spoon at him.

‘I’m just a practice run. Speaking of which, I’ve got something for you.’ Tom pulled the watch out of his pocket that he’d been hiding there since he’d gotten changed earlier. ‘This is for you.’

He handed her the present, watching for her reaction.

Chelsea frowned at the Apple watch resting in her hand. ‘For me?’

‘That’s the general idea of a gift, yes.’

Chelsea blinked, then straightened. ‘You can’t give me an Apple watch!’

‘I just did. Don’t tell me you don’t need one. It would mean that you can pick up messages on your watch while you’re working in case someone is trying to get in touch. That way you won’t be in trouble with Dragon Lady for using your phone.’

Chelsea opened her mouth, closed it again, then went to hand it back to him.

Tom grinned and hid his hands behind his back. ‘It’s yours, Chels.’

She shook her head, surprise transforming into stubbornness. ‘No. No way. This is too much. I can’t accept it.’

‘To put your mind at ease, I got it second-hand from a guy in the team. He bought it new, used it for a couple of weeks, and then decided he wanted a different brand instead. So it wasn’t full price. Stop stressing.’ Chelsea went to drop the watch in his lap, and Tom reached over and caught her wrists gently. ‘Try it on, please. Here.’

Tom took the watch from her and placed the band around her left wrist, fastening it carefully. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his touch, and he had to resist the urge to run his thumb across the gentle rise where her pulse was. Instead, he retracted his hands and forced himself to rest them on his knees.

‘There,’ he told her, his voice a little gruff. ‘Now we just have to pair it. Hand me your phone.’

Without saying anything, Chelsea reached into her bag sitting beside her and fished out her phone.

They were both silent as he spent the next five minutes setting it up for her. When he was done, he pulled out his own phone and typed a message to her.

Are you angry with me?

A second later, her wrist buzzed and a notification lit up the screen of her watch. Her eyes widened. She hid her wrist and did something to her watch.

Tom’s phone buzzed and he looked at the message on the screen. It was an emoji with its tongue sticking out.

‘I’ll take that as a yes and no,’ he said.

His phone buzzed again, and this time it was an emoji blowing a kiss. Tom’s heart flipped.

Don’t make anything out of it. She’s just playing with her new gift.

He forced a smile onto his face.

‘That’s a thank you,’ she told him. ‘Sorry if I seemed ungrateful at first. I . . . I’m just not used to guys being so thoughtful.’

Tom was simultaneously annoyed at all the previous guys for not looking after Chelsea properly, and secretly glad he was the first to impress her with a nice gesture.

‘Can I let you in on a secret? It’s also a bit selfish on my part,’ he said.

‘Why?’

He grinned. ‘Now I know you’ll get my messages at work.’